


When there is nobody else to Turn to

by WinterIsComing



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Hurt, I Don't Even Know, Incest, Lemons, Love, One Big Happy Family, Pain, Rape, Sibling Incest, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Was I Thinking?, anguish, daddy issuse, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterIsComing/pseuds/WinterIsComing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lost the war, that much Clary knows. She doesn't know much else. She doesn't know where exactly she is and she she doesn't know why Jonathan won't stop watching her like he is. Then she does.<br/>She wants nothing more than for Jace to come and save her and make this pain stop. But he isn't here, he isn't here to protect her from Jonathan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I should be doing something useful like studying but I wrote this instead.  
> I'm sorry.  
> I feel like in the coming weeks this could take some direction and possibly have some sort of a plot but for now, I'll work with what I have.  
> Again, I'm sorry.

There is always a feeling that you try to bury deep inside you, it eats into your conscience no matter how hard you try to supress it. It’s always there. Clary Fray knows it now because in the end you always _fail._

Maybe failure wouldn’t have felt so bad, as selfish as that sounds, if Clary had been in any other person’s position, any other person in the world. She’d give it all just to be somebody else, _she’d rather be Max._ But instead, here she was. She was still Clary Fray Morgenstern and the Shadow Hunters, _the world she had once belonged to¸_ had lost the war against Valentine. There were causalities, in the thousands Clary thought, but many had survived and those who had had fled Idris in fear of Valentine. There was a point when the Shadow Hunters, the Clave, had thought that Valentine planned to reform the Circle but it quickly became truth that Valentine wanted the head of every former member of the Circle on a spike. All except for Jocelyn Fairchild, _Clary’s mother._

Valentine wanted to rebuild his family, he wanted Clary and Jocelyn and he already had Jonathan. He knew that together, with their combined abilities that they would be an unstoppable force.

_Yes, Clary knows it now._

But Valentine only had Clary and Jonathan, Jocelyn had vanished. Valentine had pressed Clary on where she was, but it was unknown to Clary her whereabouts as Valentine soon learned after leaving Jonathan and Clary and a seraph blade alone in a room together. Clary still had the faint scars on her arm.

But it was Valentine’s idea that they could play happy families for a time was the reason why Clary was here. Well, she didn’t know exactly where she was but what she did know was she was in a manor house not far from Idris and it was a beautiful place, somewhere that Clary could have loved living in had it been under any other circumstances. Clary dreamed of a place like this where she and Jace would live, where they could have picnics in the garden while the sun beat down brightly on their backs.

The house was beautiful except it wasn’t. There was a darkness present within the walls, a coldness that didn’t make this manor house a home. There was no laughter, no happiness, no love.

There was, however, _Jonathan._

Jonathan hadn’t once left Clary alone since Valentine had dragged her back to the manor. Clary was allowed to roam about the house and the surrounding grounds but that was all and Jonathan had taken it upon himself, not under orders from Valentine, to follow Clary everywhere she went. Her blond haired brother followed her, watched her through his black eyes, every move she made. The only time he seemed to leave her alone was when she was sleeping in her room but even _then_ she wasn’t entirely sure she was alone. Sometimes, when Clary wasn’t feeling so intimidated by his presence, she tried to talk to him as so she should, he _was_ her brother after all. Sometimes all she wanted was to talk to somebody, anybody that wasn’t Valentine and she thought that Jonathan, after all these years alone with Valentine, would be the same. She tried to make light of a bad situation. But he rarely spoke to her, he wasn’t harsh when he spoke to her, he just _didn’t_ speak. He wouldn’t answer her questions about the others, about Jace and Alec or Izzy, never told her why he killed Max. Maybe he thought that she hated him, that she would use the snippets of information she gathered against him some way or another.

_He was smart,_ Clary thought.

She hated Jonathan. She loved him. Her feelings towards him were conflicted. She had very much liked him when he was Sebastian because he was nice to her, he cared when Jace didn’t seem to and then of course he kissed her…

Clary didn’t know how to feel about that kiss now that she knew she was his sister. It made her stomach twist. She couldn’t imagine what would have happened if she had never pulled away, if she had chosen Jonathan over Jace. He was her brother, and even though he had thought Jace was her brother and still wanted him, this was different. It was clear, obviously, that Jonathan didn’t feel the same disgust. She hadn’t missed the lust in Jonathan’s eyes when he had kissed her and she never missed the love and want and desire in his eyes as he watched her now from across the lounge. Clary was pretending to read, _A Tale of Two Cities_ or something, and of course Jonathan was with her. They had been sitting here all afternoon and not a word was spoken between them. Until now.

“Sebastian, stop it.” Jonathan smiled a little.

“My name isn’t Sebastian,” he told her but Clary just rolled her eyes and ignored what he had said.

“Why do you keep looking at me like I’m your lunch? It’s making me uncomfortable.” Jonathan said nothing. Of course there was truth in what she said, he _made_ her uncomfortable. She wasn’t trying to anger him but his gaze felt like he was trying to stare through her or into her soul or something. His gaze never shifted from her. Clary sighed softly and turned back to her book. “Forget it.”

Jonathan continued to look at her, but his expression had changed ever so slightly, enough for Clary to notice. He spoke but his voice was quite which surprised Clary. “Do I make you uncomfortable, little sister?”

Clary was surprised that he had even spoken and had to take a moment to gather her thoughts and formulate a reply. “No. Well, I-I it’s the way you watch me. I wouldn’t mind you being around so much if you didn’t watch me all the time. Sometimes I feel you’re my prison guard rather than my brother.”

“Father wants to make sure you don’t try anything stupid.”

Clary huffed, “I _know_ father didn’t ask you to stalk me like a hawk. You’re doing this off your own back and I don’t get it. Plus what am I going to do anyway? I don’t have a stele and barely any basic training. We both know I wouldn’t get very far,” she pointed out with a sigh. Jonathan’s shoulders dipped. For a moment, Jonathan looked conflicted as if he had something to tell her and then he too sighed. Then he surprised Clary. He got up and left the room without another word. For the first time in the seven months she had been here, he had never left her alone but then, here she was alone for the first time.

She missed the Lightwoods and Magnus and Simon and Luke and Jocelyn. Thought of how she’d probably never see them again, how she’d never get to see Magnus and Alec tell Maryse and Robert that they were dating, how she’d never see Simon tell Izzy how much he truly loved her. How she’d never get to see Jace again. _Jace._ Why had nobody come for her? Why hadn’t Jace come? Didn’t he love her? Seven months was a long time, Clary thought, and maybe he’s moved on. The thought made Clary wince. _He wouldn’t_. Her chest tightened. Clary’s eyes burned. She decided to go to her bedroom in case Jonathan came back he couldn’t see her cry.

When she reached her room, she threw herself onto her cushioned bed and buried her face in her pillows. She stayed like this for a long time until eventually she broke. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She cried. She cried for her mum. She cried for Jace and Izzy and Alec. She cried for Simon and his stupid gaming t-shirts she never understood but laughed anyway. She cried for Luke and Hodge and Max and most of all she cried for herself because she knew she’d never leave this place. She would be stuck here tormented by her own father and brother until eventually her heart would give in to all the pain she’d gone through. She wanted to go home and cry into her mother’s shoulder about boys and school and all the little things that made up her life. She didn’t want to be like this; cold and alone and crying into her pillows. She was scared but didn’t she have a right to be? Her entire life had been turned upside down and inside out all within one year.

This was hell. She was living in hell.

She wanted Jace to be here. To hold her and tell her that she was okay, that she was going to be okay.  But he wasn’t here.

He never came to save her.

She hated this place, more than anybody would ever know. She wasn’t here because she was family or because Valentine loved her. She was here because she was an asset to the man she was supposed to call her father. He dad told her himself that he hated the sight of her but yet he held her here like a prisoner, a trophy to piss in the face of the Clave.

But she wouldn’t eat. She would barely sleep. She had dropped two dress sizes in being here and her body looked like it had been battered and bruised. Not because of Valentine or Jonathan but because of herself, in her sleep. Valentine didn’t understand that was why she wouldn’t sleep. He thought she was doing this to annoy him, to cry out to him for attention. And the more he scolded her, the more he mocked and insulted her, the harder it all became. It was hard just to remember to keep taking breaths sometimes.

There was a knock on her bedroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

Clary knew who it was before he even came through the wooden door, the wood protesting as he did so.

Clary didn’t even bother to look up at him when he entered just told him to go away between broken sobs.

“Go away, Sebastian. Get out!” Clary knew he wouldn’t go, knew he wouldn’t leave her but gosh, how she wished he would. She didn’t want to see him because he was just a constant reminder of the hell she was living.

“No,” was all he said, crossing the floor towards her. She was still on her bed but her face was now turned away from the door, away from Jonathan, her body curled in on itself wishing it could die.

“Just go away. I don’t want to see you.” She felt the bed dip behind her and she shifted over on her bed just to put some distance between her and her invading brother. His hand fell on her hip pulling her onto her back. Clary sat up right in an instant and pulled her legs to her chest as if his hand had burned her flesh. “Get your hands off of me.” His hands stretched out and touched her red, tear streaked face. She turned her face. “Get away from me. I mean it, Jonathan.” He smiled and it made her stomach twist.

“Can’t I comfort my little sister. She looks upset,” and he sounded like he was mocking her and she just wanted to punch that look off of his face. But she knew that wouldn’t help, she knew he’d catch her hand before it connected with his face and probably break her wrist. She knew that just because he had stayed quite over the last few months didn’t mean that he wasn’t the same spiteful, vicious monster that had killed Max Lightwood, that had killed Hodge Starkweather in cold blood.

He moved his hand again and Clary assumed it was going back towards her face. But he stopped at her shoulder and trailed his fingers along her collarbone and down her sides.

She hadn’t meant to kick him but he provoked it.

Maybe she deserved the slap she had gotten in return.

She hissed at the pain shooting through her jaw and Jonathan grabbed at her wrists holding them down. His eyes blazed in anger.

“Do that again little sister, I do enjoy it when you fight.” Clary felt her stomach drop, she knew instantly what he meant. Her eyes clamped shut and her legs instinctively pulled closer to her body. He was her brother. That was all she wanted him to be.

“Let me go, Jonathan. Leave me alone.”

“You used my right name,” he smirked but his grip never loosened. She fixed her gaze on him, and if looks could kill, Jonathan would definitely be about six feet under by now. Shifting so he held both her hand in one of his, he moved his free hand up and down her side again. “Tell me why you were crying.” Was what he said. Clary tried to speak and choked on her words when he dipped his head and kissed her neck. His warm lips brushed against her skin, setting it on fire and making it feel so very, very wrong.

Clary squirmed under his touch, his touching leaving a blazing trail along the exposed skin at the waist of her jeans. This was wrong on so many different levels. This didn’t cut close to all the torturous punishments Valentine had subjected her to in her first weeks here. This was plain and simply wrong. She tried to move away but Jonathan was a step ahead of her, throwing his leg over her and straddling her hips. He let his weight press down on her, holding her there. Twisting her wrists in his grasp, she pulled them and tried to roll out from under him. He never moved and his vice-like grip on her wrists only tightened. He was stronger, faster and more skilled than she could ever dreamed to be and at that moment she hated her mother for taking away her sight, taking her away from the Shadow world because maybe if she hadn’t she would have been able to put up some sort of a fight against Jonathan.

But Jocelyn had and now here she was, pinned down and helpless in her brother’s grasp.

“Jonathan, stop it,” she tried. “I don’t want- Jonathan!” He was at her neck again, kissing her skin and grazing sharp teeth along the flesh there. He pulled some skin between his teeth, sucking on the skin and biting down sharply on it every so often. She hissed. She was sure there would be a mark left. What would her father think if he saw? “I’ll tell father,” she warned him through clenched teeth. Jonathan’s laugh rumbled against her throat and he pulled back to look at her emerald green eyes.

“You think he would believe you? Nobody ever believes a child. Nobody believed Max when he saw someone climb the demon towers,” Clary flinched. This was the first time he had mentioned Max, the memory of the black haired child was still painful. “Nobody will believe you.”

“Let me go, please.”

“I can’t, little sister. Don’t you see it? We belong; we are the definition of polar opposites. Two sides of the same coin. You see, you must. We are the last of the Morgensterns, Clary.”

“You’re my brother! You can’t, get off me!” Clary pushed at him, she squirmed and she fought. She tried to wriggle out from beneath the weight of her older brother, but he wouldn’t allow it. Tears were flowing like rivulets from her eyes, she didn’t want to look weak but she couldn’t help it because she was _terrified._

She knew what Jonathan had in his mind, she knew what he wanted because that much was apparent from the uncomfortable presence of her brother’s excitement pressed against he left leg. She was going to be sick. Her stomach knotted and pulled itself tighter. This was just some horrible nightmare.

Some horrible nightmare that she would soon be waking up from.

Any moment now she was going to wake up, she was sure of it.

But there was lips on her throat again, teeth nibbling at the skin there. There was pressure on her leg where her brother ground down onto her and this was all too real. This was going to happen and she couldn’t stop him. If she had a stele, if she had a blade, if she had Jace…

She didn’t have any of those things. What she did have was her brother’s hand snaking up under the hem of her shirt and slipping under the lace fabric of her bra.

Clary hissed at the contact and Jonathan’s warm calloused fingers dragging across the pale skin of her breasts, tracing patterns with his fingertips into the flesh. It was an experience that could have been enjoyable had it been Jace, or anybody else that wasn’t her brother. Clary twisted again under Jonathan’s hands.

This time Jonathan pulled back from her and Clary thought that he had seen sense finally that he wasn’t going to- She heard the tearing of fabric and when she looked, she saw Jonathan tearing off a long strip of her bed linen. Turning his attention back to her, he took her hands once again and using the bed linen, tied her wrists and the bed frame together. Her hands were now resting on the metal of the bed frame and Jonathan now had both hands to continue what he’d started.

He started with her neck again, kissing and biting the soft flesh there and he made his way down and along her pronounced collar bone to the hollow of her neck. He peppered her neck with soft, chaste kisses while both his hands crept back under her shirt. They brushed faintly over her skin before pulling out and making quick work of the buttons. With her hands above her head it made it impossible to get her shirt off so Jonathan simply pushed to open and let the fabric hang a little off her shoulders, leaving Clary’s bra clad chest exposed to him.

All the while, Clary sobbed and begged incoherently for him to stop.

Eventually, Jonathan spoke, “if you don’t stop crying I won ‘t think twice about drawing a silencing rune. In fact,” he pulled out a stele and put it to the skin of Clary’s shoulder.

“Jonathan, please. Don’t, don’t do this. Jonathan-” Clary cut herself off with a hiss as she felt the familiar burn of the rune marking her skin and once Jonathan had finished, the burn vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Clary tried to speak but her words died on her lips. No sound escaped her and dread filled her as she knew now that she hadn’t a chance to stop this. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t fight but she could sit here and let her brother do what he wanted. That was all she could do.

Jonathan took in the sight of Clary beneath him, his hands itching towards the band of her jeans. He worked fast, and then her jeans and panties were gone. Trying to curl in on herself, she found her ankles being held in place.

“You’re so beautiful, why would you try and hide that?” His words were soft, and they made Clary shiver. “Don’t look to scared,” he pressed a small kiss to the corner of her mouth, “I’m sure this isn’t anything you and Jace-” She shook her head. Jonathan outright laughed. “So the little angel boy didn’t have it in him? I’m not surprised but I am glad he didn’t get the chance to ruin you.” Clary clenched her eyes firmly shut as her demon blooded brother dipped down to kiss her flat stomach. His hand found that private place between her legs and his fingers slipped past the fabric wasting no time before he thrust one long pianist-like finger into her body. She cried out at the intrusion. His pace was relentless but he eased up when he felt that her body wasn’t relaxing. It wasn’t clear to her now but he wanted her to enjoy this and maybe she would, Jonathan could only hope. It was obvious that he had wanted her since she had arrived and in the months that she had been here he wanted nothing more than to take her on every available surface in the house. But he had restrained himself, knowing it would do no good. He was tired of waiting and the burning desire for her had become too much. He had to have her.

Another finger pushed into her, her body enveloping it in a slick heat. Her body began to relax and she cried harder at her traitorous body for how could it give in to such a sick pleasure? It wasn’t long before a third finger joined the party and Clary was writhing beneath Jonathan, under his weight and under his touch. There was a guilty pleasure and even though her mind and heart wanted it to end, her body had different ideas.

In an instant his fingers were gone and he sat looking at her for a moment. His eyes bore into her face and his fingertips brushed away the tears littering her face. The distance between their faces became smaller until warm lips brushed her own. She didn’t respond because she didn’t want to but his lips pressed harder onto hers. The feeling was foreign but it wasn’t entirely horrible. It was on his third attempt to coax open her mouth to let his tongue intrude did she finally allow it. Emotions that had been present when she and Jace had kissed weren’t present here. There wasn’t lust and passion but there was love but of a different standard. It was the love shared between family and that kind of love in this situation was just wrong. She turned away, not willing to look at him and not wanting to acknowledge what she had done. She didn’t face him again until she felt a dull pressure between her legs. Both his pants and hers were gone and Jonathan and all his beauty hung over her body. He looked like an angel with his white hair and magnificently sculpted body. But it was the eyes, those black soulless orbs that game the game away.

“Could you ever love me?” He asked her and there was an emotional vulnerability hidden there on his face. He waited expectant of her answer but unable to speak, she shook her head in response. No.

His face twisted and he thrust violently into her. One thrust and he had taken away her innocence and virtue. One thrust and he had ruined her for Jace or any other man she may ever have grown to love. Pain ripped through her as though it was tearing apart her body and she screamed in response.

But all was silent apart from Jonathan above her who was huffing and moaning quietly. His face was pained but not close to the pain Clary felt right then. The intrusion to her body was not welcome, t was uncomfortable and Clary couldn’t let her body relax to adjust to the generous size of Jonathan’s member. The God’s had been just in one thing, she thought. The force he slammed into her body was beyond forceful, she was sure there was blood and not even just from the fact she was a virgin. Jonathan was brutal in his ways. Clary doesn’t remember succumbing to darkness, she never stayed conscious for the whole duration, the emotional stress and physical stress on her body was too much.

She remembers Jonathan whispering in her ear, and it was likely she would never forget for as long as she’d live;

“You are mine, little sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm dragging this out but, I don't know. I struggle to make short work of these types of scenes. I'll have an update soon.


	3. Chapter 3

When Clary came around her room was dark. There was no longer the orange haze of the afternoon sunlight spilling through her windows for it had been replaced with a creeping darkness. She also found that she was alone on her bed, in her room and that her hands were now, once again, her own.

Jonathan had left her.

She pulled herself into sitting position and hissed. There was pain between her legs, like the skin had been beaten raw and she knew, she _knew._ It had not all been one terrible nightmare, it had happened.

Her own brother raped her.

_Jonathan laughed,_ _“so the little angel boy didn’t have it in him? I’m not surprised but I am glad he didn’t get the chance to ruin you.”_

Clary’s stomach lurched, it shouldn’t have happened, he shouldn’t have. She was waiting, her and Jace, they were waiting. And now… If he came for her, _if_ he ever did, why would he want her now? She had done something truly inexcusable, done something so wrong that only Jonathan, the devil himself, could pass as right and proper.

She hated Jonathan and the hatred ran deep. It was a white hot type of rage she felt for her white haired brother and yet, all the while she knew she loved him.

Not in the way, it seemed, that Jonathan hoped she would.

Something that Jace had once said to her rang out in her head. Back in Idris, once they had found out that it was Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was Clary’s true brother, Jace had pulled Clary away from the others. He said, “ _I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. You’re nothing like that cold hearted monster. Just because the same blood runs through your veins, it doesn’t mean a thing. You’re the daughter of Jocelyn Fairchild, not Valentine Morgenstern, okay Clary?”_ And he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her on the side of the mouth. _“You love him. It’s okay to love him, too. Just don’t even trust him. I don’t know what I’d do if that bastard let something happen to you.”_

Clary smiled sadly to herself, Jace would have never let this happen to her. The last time he saw her, he told her that he would give it all up if it meant that he could have her forever. It was the fire blazing in those golden eyes that told her that he meant it too.

 _“He’d burn the whole world down ‘til he could dig you out of the ashes,”_ Alec had told her and for this to come from the shadowhunter boy who had fallen in love with his parabatai, who had hated Clary because Jace had chosen her right from the start, there was comfort to be found in Alec’s words.

 

When Jonathan had left her, he had left her shirt hanging from her body. Her pants and underwear sat on the chair by the window and the covers of her bed were tangled carelessly around her legs. Getting to her feet, knuckles clenched white as she tried to move past the pain shooting through her body, she was that there was blood on her bed sheets. A lot of blood. She felt it on her legs too, dried and pinching her skin as she moved to her bathroom.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, she saw how rough she truly looked. Her fiery red hair pointed in all directions, the purple circles around her eyes had deepened to a shade closer to black, there were bruises littering her neck and scratch marks across her chest. Her stomach fluttered uneasily. If Valentine saw the state she was in… Clary made the conscious decision to stay in her room the following day, out of sight from Valentine or his whispering maids or Jonathan.

Relieving herself of her remaining clothes and ensuring that her bedroom door and bathroom door, too, were both locked, Clary stepped under the soothing spray of her shower. There was little comfort to be found here however. It no longer provided that small home-like comfort it once had. She scrubbed her skin raw trying to get rid of the feeling of Jonathan’s hands crawling all over her skin, of his lips and his breath. But to no avail. She sank down onto the floor of her shower and, with the water flowing freely over her head and down her back, the dam of her pent up emotions finally broke. The weight of her world was finally beginning to crush her.

She wanted Jace.

She wanted somebody who could tell her that it was all going to be all right.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long for Clary and Jonathan to fall into a sort of routine. Since the first time it happened, Clary found herself leaving her bedroom less and less to avoid the poisonous stares of her brother.

  
Unsurprisingly, Jonathan found himself in her room more and more.

  
Every night he would come into her room and each time it would be the same. He'd arrive around eleven o'clock knowing that Clary would be on the verge of falling into a fitful sleep. He'd let himself into her room and lie besides her on her bed, stroking her hair as she started to cry. At first she'd tried to ignore him, hoping that he would leave her alone but she gave up, because Jonathan was nothing if not relentless. Each night he would asked why she was crying which, of course, only made her sob harder. He would try and comfort his little sister until he became to impatient with her infernal crying that he carried on with his initial intentions.

After the fifth night she stopped fighting, her body quite still as he had his way with her.

  
He took and gave back equally, and it made it all the worse for Clary. With his fingers, his mouth or any other sinful part of his body that she dared not to think about, he would bring her to fits of explosive ecstasy. He learned the ways that her body worked and he used it to bring his darling sister into states of euphoria because he would make he love him. He simply needed to show her what he could give her in return for her unconditional love. He would make her see that they were meant to be, their souls and blood were the _same._

When Jonathan was quite sated, he would climb off her and redress. But before leaving her room, leaning over her, he would kiss her softly on the lips and ask, "Do you love me yet, little sister?" And each time she would close her eyes and shake her head, no.

Then he would leave.

 

~*~*~

 

It had been two months since the night that Jonathan had taken his sisters innocence and he had repeated his actions every night since. He had given her time and still, when he asked if she loved him, she said no. He didn't understand. Perhaps he never would but he could try and he would. Some days, when he wasn't off doing bidding for his father, he would sit outside the door to her bedroom of which she had no idea. She rarely left the confinements of her bedroom since that night and when she did it was simply because Valentine wished to see her. The maids of the manor brought her food which for the most part came back to the kitchen untouched. Clary was barely eating and despite his efforts, he couldn't coax her into eating. They both knew that he could force her and all in it would be a terribly uncomfortable business for them both but he was trying to make her love him and force wouldn't help.

  
Still, as he sat with his back against her door, he could her her soft sobs on the other side. Nine months she had been there at the manor and for nine months she had cried every day for Jace and her mother and all the other pathetic people that had been left behind in the destruction of their old world.  
Perhaps, Jonathan though to himself. Perhaps she still _loves_ Jace. The idea had occurred once before to him but he had never really given it much thought. She mourns for the angel boy, not knowing how he is or if he is even still alive.

  
Jace Herondale is the reason she cannot come to love him. Jonanthan had an idea.

 

The next night he arrived in her room as he usually did and let himself into her room. Clary sat by the window staring blindly out into the darkness of the night. She was lost in thought, thinking of Jace and her mother, and everyone. She wished she was with them or even knew that they were all alive and safe at least. She wondered if she could ask Jonathan about them. She doubted it very much.

  
She turned quickly when she heard the latch on her door click. Jonathan had arrived, punctual as always.

"Jonathan," she said as way of greeting before she turned back towards the window and began ignoring him.

"Clary," he started further into the room towards her. "I can't stay long this evening. I have... an errand to run."

"Oh?" Clary sounded surprised, he had never missed and evening with her yet. Not that she was complaining that he would be somewhere else that wasn't with her.

"Don't sound too disappointed, little sister."

"I shall try, brother. I suppose your evening shall include mercilessly killing the innocent while you laugh the night away. Tell me I'm wrong?" She spat although there was a hint of amusement in her voice. She wasn't in the mood for him. She wanted him to go. But then he said something unexpected.

"Do you miss them?" Clary shot upright and snapped round to face him. Her stomach began to twist uncomfortably. He stalked closer to her, only stopping inches away from her.

"What?"

"I said," his voice dropped to almost a whisper, "do you miss them?" Clary stood stock still, his breath washing over her face. She didn't know how to answer. Jonathan had never brought up the others before. In fact, in the whole time she had been here, he had never said much of anything to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said dismissively.

"Don't play dumb. I'm talking about your sweet little angel boy, little sister, your friends. All of the people you can't save."

"You're... sick. O-Of course I do, they're my family. Not that _you_ would know very much about that." She regretted the words as soon as they passed from her lips. Jonathan's eyes darkened, his body rigid.

"I am your family now, I am all you have!" He yelled, finally losing his nerve with her. "I'm the one who has been there, they never came to find you. He never tried to save you! You aren't supposed to love him."

"What do you know about love? You- You break and destroy things. You're no better than Valentine. You're incapable of loving anybody. You-" He hadn't meant to slap her but she had gotten under his skin. She clutched her face in her hands. Jonathan was a whirlpool of emotions, temperamental and volatile.

"I love you, Clarissa. I will burn down the world and everything in it if it means that you will love me. I have to go now. I'm going to find your little angel boy and I'm going to break his wings. He will not be your salvation this time."

"No, Jonathan, please. You can't!" He started towards the door. 

"I can and I will," he said taking no notice of her tears. She moved to grab his arm.

"I'll do anything, anything. Don't hurt him, please, please..."

He grabbed her face harshly, pulling her face up to his and her lips met his in a bruising kiss. It was neither loving nor was it sweet but Clary felt his anger, knew in an instant what he was capable of.

"You _will_ love me, little sister. If that means that I have to break every bone in his body and make you listen to him scream to do so then so be it." He was out the door before she could properly understand his words.


End file.
